A Tail to Remember
by RedZipBoots
Summary: Hannibal Heyes and Kid Curry get a new travelling companion.
1. Chapter 1

The rain had finally stopped.

Actually, describing what had fallen from the sky as rain was something of an understatement — it was a deluge — and now both Hannibal Heyes and Kid Curry were soaked to the skin.

While packing up their camp that morning the ex-outlaws had noticed the gathering clouds in the distance but had paid them little attention, assuming their contents would most likely be cast over higher ground, far away from where they were headed. And anyway, even if the bad weather did reach them their chosen trail wound its way nicely through a dense wood of tall broad-leafed trees. That would afford them all the cover they needed.

They had been wrong.

The skies had given very little warning, a few large drops to rattle the leaves overhead together with a tiny rumble of thunder, before what felt like the contents of the Colorado River was dumped over them in the space of an hour. Finding a more impermeable shelter had not been an option and the two riders eventually abandoned trying to keep up their usual pace and instead gave their unhappy mounts free rein to pick their own route over the sodden ground.

Once the rain had ceased they breathed a sigh of relief only to find that the track they were following took a line at the base of a steep slope bordering the wood. This meant the trees now dropped great globules of water over them from those lovely broad leaves they had anticipated would be their shelter.

Heyes pulled his sorrel to a halt and, without thinking, looked down to untie his canteen. This resulted in a brimful of water cascading from his hat, landing on the front of his saddle and running down the dip.

"$*#%!"

Kid Curry looked over his shoulder and grinned at his partner's irritated expression. "Don't know what you're cussin' for, Heyes. You're already about as wet as you can get."

Heyes took a mouthful of water from his canteen before replying, "Ain't that the truth! I can't remember when I've been as wet as this, 'cept last time I had a bath."

"Me neither," agreed his cousin. "It's gonna take days to dry out all our gear."

"Didn't even have time to think about getting my slicker on." Heyes took his hat off, shook it, then placed it firmly on his head. He adjusted it — twice — in the vague hope it would stop the water from accumulating in the brim.

"Figure it'd be a waste of time now, even if it does start rainin' again. We've gotta try and find a line shack or even a cave, Heyes, or we're gonna have a real cold, wet night. I'd rather keep riding than sleep on this wet ground. In my book, that's a sure way to get a lung fever."

"The way our luck has been running I wouldn't be surprised if we didn't end up getting one anyway. Four towns and no work. And in mining country too." Heyes shook his head in disbelief.

The two riders continued along the trail, Kid taking the lead.

"How much money d' you figure we've got between us, Heyes?"

"I don't have to figure — I know. Five dollars and eleven cents."

"Sheesh. That won't get us far. I can't believe the last town you steered us to didn't have any gamblin'."

"No gambling! Heck, it didn't have one single saloon!" Heyes read the disgruntled set of his cousin's shoulders. "How was I to know it was a company town?"

"Guess we shouldn't be surprised, we are in the middle of Utah. A lot of folks here don't hold with drinkin' and gamblin' and those company towns have real strict rules."

Both men fell silent while negotiating a particularly steep part of the trail which wound its way down to the river that they could hear below them.

The river was at full force but luckily it had not yet burst its banks, otherwise the trail they intended to follow would have been washed out. Stopping on a flat sandy area of the riverbank they leant on their saddle horns surveying the fast flowing water.

"That sure is racin' along!" Kid had to raise his voice to be heard above the roar.

"Yeah, I hope nobody got taken by surprise trying to cross it. Rain like that can stir up the bottom real quick, take your horse's feet right from under him."

Pointing to a bend some distance away where the river narrowed, Kid observed, "Bet those rapids weren't that fierce this morning."

"Well, we'd better keep going." Heyes glanced up at the sky. "Looks like it's gonna rain again." He began to rein his horse back toward the trail.

"Hold on a minute, Heyes!" Still looking upstream, Kid Curry stood up in his stirrups. "Did you see that?"

"What?"

"There's somethin' in the water. I saw it bobbin' about."

"It's probably a log. C'mon."

"Uh-uh. It wasn't a log." Kid kept his eyes fixed on the rapids. He jabbed his finger in the direction of the object as he caught sight of it once more. "There, see!"

"Nope."

"Looks to me like somethin' tryin' to swim."

Hannibal Heyes stared at the roiling water. When he turned back he saw that Kid had dismounted and was quickly undoing the leather strap which attached his lariat to the saddle.

"What are you doing?" he asked, with dismay.

Kid placed his hat on his saddle horn, opened up the loop of rope and quickly wriggled his arms and shoulders through it until it was snug around his chest, making sure the honda knot was good and tight. He didn't really want to get his sheepskin jacket completely water-logged but knew if he didn't have the extra padding the rope would pull against his shirt and henley and leave him with bruised and painful ribs.

"You're not ..."

"C'mon Heyes, grab hold will ya," urged Kid, tossing the coil of rope in his partner's direction.

Heyes extended a hand deftly catching it and with a loud sigh slid from his saddle. He quickly wound the end around his saddle horn, all the while muttering to himself; the only clearly discernable words being lame-brained and idiot. Having taken a good grip on the rope he braced himself and nodded to Kid who wasted no time in wading out into the torrent. Within seconds he could feel the sand and gravel of the river bottom moving and inevitably his feet were swept from under him. Heyes hung on tight, steadied the rope and backed up to lean against his horse, encouraging it to take a couple of steps to its left until Kid was upright again.

"This is a really dumb idea...even for you!" he shouted, his words muffled by the roar of the river as his partner made his way to the centre of the channel.

Kid had only just turned to face upstream when he caught sight of his quarry being tossed around amid the rocks and white water. It was approaching rapidly. He tried to gauge where the flow would take it but miscalculated and the current almost pulled it past him. Lunging to his right his outstretched hands just managed to grab hold but the movement took his feet off the river bottom and he found himself taking in a large mouthful of water as he was dragged under.

The heels of Heyes' boots dug deep into the riverbank, his arms and shoulders straining with the effort of keeping the rope taut and his mouth dry with fear as he watched his cousin flounder.

Having urged his sorrel to take a few more steps toward the trail Heyes only stopped holding his breath when he was satisfied that Kid had regained his footing. He then began to coil the lariat in while Kid walked backwards pulling the object he had retrieved. As he got closer Heyes could see that it was a large, brown and very bedraggled dog.

Still coughing and spluttering from his dunking in the river, Kid backed up to the riverbank and sat down heavily, grabbing the dog by the scruff of its neck and heaving it onto the safety of the bank. The animal lay there, motionless.

"You really are one crazy son-of-a—." Heyes shook his head as he crouched down and gripped his cousin's arm, mostly for his own benefit, confirming to himself that the Kid was alright. "Of all the darn-fooled things to go and do. And for a dog!"

Still breathing heavily Kid hung his head then looked up to regard the dog with concern. "He ain't dead is he?" he croaked.

"After all that, he'd better not be," grumbled Heyes.

Kid placed the palm of his hand against the dog's rib cage. "He feels real cold, Heyes, but I think he's breathin'. I wonder how long he's been in the water."

Heyes got to his feet, pushed his hat to the back of his head and frowned. "Okay, Kid, seeing as this was your idea, what do you propose we do now? He don't look like he can walk and he sure can't ride, and _we_ need to find some shelter — and _fast_. Those storm clouds are headed our way and in a couple of hours we're gonna be losing daylight."

"I don't know what you're gettin' all cranky for, Heyes. I'm the one who went in the river to get him."

"Yeah, and couldha got himself drowned!"

Flashing a grin at his disgruntled partner Kid wriggled free of the lariat and pulled off his boots one at a time, tipping out the murky river water that was sloshing around his feet. Having replaced his boots he took hold of Heyes' proffered hand and stood. Then he began undoing the saddle strings around his bedroll.

"Now, what are you doing?"

"I'm gonna wrap the dog in this blanket to keep him warm then, when I'm settled on my horse, you're gonna set him in front of me. I'll carry him just like when we was carrying dogies on a drive." He caught the hard look that Heyes gave him and returned it with an even harder one of his own. "Well, we ain't leavin' him here."

"Okay, okay." Heyes crouched down again and, as Kid folded the blanket in half and set it out on the ground, he picked up the dog and wrapped him up in the roughly woven fabric. Once Kid was mounted up and had the exhausted animal in place across his saddle they continued on their way.

Somehow, the dog didn't balance across the saddle quite as easily as a calf and Kid found himself having to steady the animal each time they came to a rough patch of ground. Progress was slow and exactly as Heyes had predicted a steady rain once more started to fall.

Despite the motion of the horse the dog hadn't moved at all and Kid was starting to worry. "Heyes, can you see how he's doin'?" he asked.

The black hat dipped as the wearer peered at the animal, thereby pouring a runnel of rainwater straight down into his boot.

"$*#%!"

"Well?"

Heyes gritted his teeth. "His eyes are closed. He could be dead."

"Or, he could be asleep."

"I can't worry about him, Kid. I'm too worried about us. We need to get outta this rain."

Another hour's riding and the heavy cloud cover, together with the persistent rain, was making the temperature drop and what little daylight remained fade rapidly. It was starting to look more and more likely that the two men would have to resign themselves to spending the night on wet ground when Kid gave a sudden shout.

"Over there, Heyes! Is that a cabin?"

Hannibal Heyes squinted in the direction of Kid's finger and his grim expression lit up with a smile.

"Could be," he said, and with a loud whoop turned his horse off the trail and loped off toward what appeared to be the edge of another forest.

Because of his canine burden, Kid followed at a more leisurely pace and by the time he caught up with his partner Heyes was already out of his saddle, gun drawn, and opening the door of the small wooden building. Kid scanned the surrounding area as his partner cautiously went inside. When he reappeared the grin on his face had widened even further.

"It's dry, it's got a stove and it's abandoned, if the cobwebs everywhere are anything to go by."

"Ha, ha!" exclaimed Kid. "Here, take him in. I'll get our gear." He passed the dog down to his cousin's waiting arms and Heyes went back inside the cabin while Kid grabbed their saddlebags and bedrolls. Dumping them in a pile on the cabin floor he then turned his attention to finding the best cover for the horses and set up a highline among the trees.

Heyes, in the meantime, was busy lighting a fire in the pot-bellied stove with some dry wood from a basket in the corner. He had also found a lamp which, by the sloshing noise it made when he shook it, still had a fair amount kerosene in it and so, by the time his partner returned the place was starting to feel quite cosy. After placing both saddles as far away from the fire as possible, Kid stood shedding water generously over the old floorboards.

"Take that coat off outside and wring it out a bit, will you, Kid. We don't want the floor all wet; it's gonna be our bed for the night."

Kid Curry sighed as he looked down at the puddle forming at his feet and reluctantly stepped back outside. Taking his jacket off he turned it inside-out and proceeded to squeeze as much water out of the heavy, waterlogged fleece as he could manage. Back inside he placed it over the back of a rickety old chair which he moved nearer to the warm stove.

Both men then stripped off their wet clothes and shivering, spread them about the room over anything they could find. Heyes rummaged in his saddlebags and was delighted to find that he had one pair of only slightly damp long johns and a henley which he put on. In response to Kid's shake of his dripping blond curls as he held up a sodden set of underwear from his pack, Heyes undid his bedroll and handed him the only remaining dry blanket.

Pulling the rough weave closely around himself Kid sat on the floor next to where Heyes had placed the dog. The animal's coat was starting to dry and, to Kid's touch, he felt much warmer.

"Stroke o' luck finding this place," he said. "I was startin' to feel real cold."

"Yeah, me too. The only problem is, we haven't got a lot of wood in here. What we have got might last us the night but... You didn't happen to see a log store out there did you?"

Kid groaned. "You could've asked me that before I took my wet clothes off! No, I didn't see a log store, I just wanted to get the horses under some cover and get inside real quick to warm up."

Looking at his cousin's crestfallen face, Heyes said, "Don't worry about it, Kid. We'll sort it out in the morning. How about something to eat? We're running low on supplies but I think we've got some beans left over from yesterday. I could warm them up. And we've got some peaches, that's if the can hasn't gone rusty."

"Hot food sounds good, Heyes. I don't care what it is."

It wasn't long before the aroma of the food together with Heyes' coffee joined the not so pleasant smell of drying fleece and wet dog in the small cabin. The men sat in companionable silence, listening to the heavy drumming of the rain on the roof and enjoying the much-longed-for warmth when the dog at last gave a little whimper and his nose a began to twitch.

"He's wakin' up!" exclaimed Kid, and he leaned forward to stroke the dog only to pull back sharply as a deep growl emanated from the still prone canine.

Heyes stated the obvious. "Don't sound too friendly."

"He's just scared. You'd feel pretty ornery if you'd been thrown around in those rapids thinkin' you was gonna drown."

"Hmmm." Heyes wasn't convinced.

"Hey, fella," Kid cajoled, "We're not gonna hurt ya."

The dog slowly opened his eyes and stared at Kid Curry. Two golden brown orbs then followed Heyes as he moved to the stove, poured two cups of coffee and began spooning some food onto their old tin plates. He handed one to Kid who hastily got to work with his fork. " 's good," mumbled the blond through a mouthful of beans.

Heyes laughed. "Good? You're always griping that we don't eat anything _but_ beans when we're on the trail!"

"No, I don't!"

At Heyes' wide-eyed expression Kid shrugged his shoulders and gave a wry smile, "Okay, maybe I do, but when you're as cold and hungry as I am, almost anythin' tastes good..." He picked up his tin cup. "...even your coffee — and that's sayin' somethin'!"

Before Heyes could defend his coffee-making skills the dog suddenly stood up, shook himself, sneezed a couple of times then sat down again and, raising a long back leg began scratching vigorously.

"Aaaw, I bet he's crawling with fleas," complained Heyes.

"All dogs have fleas. Heck, half the people we know probably have 'em too."

"Yeah, well _I_ sure don't want them." Heyes shifted backwards, away from the dog, but this also took him away from the stove. He shivered then reluctantly moved forward again.

The dog stopped scratching and regarded them both closely.

"You got any more of those beans, Heyes?"

"Yeah, there should be enough for a second helping."

"I was thinking _he_ might want some." Kid nodded toward the dog.

"Dogs don't eat beans!"

"Dogs'll eat anythin' if they're hungry enough — a bit like me," grinned Kid, holding up his dented plate. "Here, use this."

"Why don't _you_ get him some?"

"Heyes, in case you've forgot, I'm holdin' this blanket around me for a reason; so, unless you want me to drop it and walk around buck nekkid..."

"No, no! Stay right where you are." Heyes hurriedly got to his feet. He edged his way toward the stove trying to ignore the growling dog and ladled two large spoonfuls of beans onto the plate. Placing it on the floor he withdrew to a safer distance.

The dog stared at Heyes before lowering its head and sniffing curiously at the plate. Within a couple of seconds the beans had disappeared and he looked up hopefully, licking his lips.

"There y'are. Told you he'd eat them," said Kid, smugly. "You want some more, fella?"

Heyes dished up what remained of the beans and they watched as this too was quickly devoured. The dog then proceeded to lick at the plate for quite some time, chasing it enthusiastically around the dirty cabin floor.

"Well, there goes _your_ second helping," declared Heyes, unsympathetically. "And Kid, seeing as he's been moppin' your plate with that slobbery ol' tongue of his, you might want to consider eating your peaches straight outta the can."

ooooo-OOO-ooooo

The pale light of dawn was just starting to creep through the cabin's single window as Hannibal Heyes began to stir. He listened. The sound of heavy rain on the roof was gone; all he could hear now was the drip, drip, drip of water off the trees. With a sigh of relief he slowly opened his eyes.

Last night they had managed to dry out the other blanket but had still decided that, as the fire in the stove would probably die during the night, they would be much warmer if they bunked in together under both blankets. And, much to Heyes' relief, by the time they settled down to sleep a pair of Kid's long johns had dried sufficiently for him to wear.

Shifting uncomfortably on the wooden floor Heyes tried to turn onto his back only to find that his legs appeared to be pinned down somehow by the blanket.

With considerable effort accompanied by a little grunting and groaning he managed to wriggle round and prop himself up onto his elbows. It was then that the cause of the problem became clear. During the night, the dog had made itself comfortable in between them causing Heyes to get twisted up in his blanket as he turned over.

Finding the animal together with its likely collection of vermin sleeping that close to him made Heyes groan even louder. At the sudden sound both the dog and Kid raised their heads at the same time.

"Wa...wassa matter?" Kid slowly rolled over and caught sight of the dog. "Hey fella. You decided it was warmer here between us, did ya?" he said, patting the dog between the ears before his eyes drifted up to his glowering partner. The dog followed his gaze and rumbled a growl.

Heyes wrested himself free of the blankets. "Don't you go growling at me," he grumbled, giving the dog a long, hard stare. "Or you won't be getting any breakfast."

"We _got_ anything for breakfast?" Kid's stomach was feeling empty. Last night's supper hadn't exactly filled him up.

"Some jerky, maybe."

Still in his long johns, Heyes was busy pulling cold boots onto bare feet and shrugging into his old, yet still damp, grey coat. "Gotta..." He jerked his head in the direction of the cabin door. As he opened it the dog appeared at his side, a wet black nose raised to test the fresh morning air. "Oh, not growling at me now?" Heyes asked sarcastically as the animal jumped down the step and hurriedly cocked its leg against the nearest tree.

Sloshing his way across the still saturated ground to a different tree, Heyes did what he needed to do, but before sloshing his way inside again he detoured around the back of the cabin looking for the much needed log store. The dog followed him, snuffling excitedly in small circles over the footprints he left on the wet ground.

Heyes grinned as he was rewarded with the sight of a small structure leaning against the back wall of the cabin inside of which was enough wood for one more day. He placed a hand on one of the logs. It was only slightly damp, so he gathered a few up in his arms to take back inside.

Turning to retrace his steps Heyes noticed the dog lapping thirstily at a muddy puddle and felt guilty for not thinking to give it some water from their canteens last night. Apart from their horses, neither he nor the Kid had been responsible for an animal of their own for many a year. Not since their childhood back in Kansas...

The sudden recollection of a small black and white terrier lying in the middle of a bloodstained farmyard as buildings burned struck him like a thunderbolt. Leaning back against the log store he sucked a ragged breath into his tightening chest and closed his eyes as he fought to rid himself of the painful memory, pushing it away to its rightful place in the far recesses of his mind.

Heyes shook his head, quickly focussed his eyes and looked around for the dog. He was nowhere to be seen. _Aw well_ , he thought, _didn't think it would be long before he was on his way._ He was therefore surprised on his return to the front of the cabin to see the animal sitting by the door.

Despite how he had felt a few seconds earlier Heyes started to laugh. The dog's snuffling in the muddy water had made the long rough hair around its snout stick together, giving it the appearance of a large, droopy, brown moustache.

Still chuckling he shouldered the door open. "In y' go, Wheat," he said, following the dog inside.

In Heyes' absence Kid had found his eyes closing again and was now in that pleasant fuzzy state between waking and sleep but, at the sound of his partner's voice and especially the name he had uttered, he sat up with a start and looked around expecting to see their former gang member, Wheat Carlson.

"What?! Who?"

Heyes looked at his cousin's befuddled expression with some amusement. "What's the matter with you?"

"I must have been dreamin', Heyes. I thought for a minute you was talkin' to Wheat."

"I was."

"Huh?"

Heyes pointed to the dog who was now sitting in front of the stove, hoping for more of the beans he had sampled last night.

"Thought he needed a name so I called him Wheat on account of him having the same moustache."

Kid rubbed at his sleepy blue eyes. "You're right," he said, with a grin. "He does look like Wheat. And he's kinda proddy. That'd account for him growlin' at you like that."


	2. Chapter 2

Kid Curry propped the Henry rifle up against a tree trunk and drew his handgun. For the second time that morning he made sure each of the six chambers was loaded then placed it firmly back into its holster. Angling the rifle over his shoulder he made his way through the trees, treading silently, his eyes watchful for any game that might contribute to their supper.

Heyes had been correct in his prediction that there would be jerky for breakfast. Jerky and nothing else, except coffee. The two of them must have made a pretty poor sight sitting by the stove while chewing on a strip of jerky until their jaws ached. Even the dog had only chewed a couple of times before spitting out the offending piece of dried meat and sniffing at it dubiously, then repeating the process several times until he considered it was palatable enough to swallow.

Four paws padded softly over the forest floor. Nose close to the ground the dog's senses were bombarded with the scent of all manner of creatures but he couldn't find the right one — yet.

Kid turned to watch his canine companion as he meandered back and forth. Maybe it wouldn't be a bad idea to just rest a spell while he waited for the dog to pick up a trail. Finding a relatively dry spot he sat down and leant back against a tree with the rifle resting across his knee. Despite a relatively good night's sleep his head was just starting to nod when a loud bark followed by the sound of growling roused him. The dog was standing next to the trunk, stiff and alert, looking at something.

"What is it fella?"

The dog bared its teeth and the growling increased in volume.

Kid watched the dog back up a little then he heard the undergrowth rustle and grinned. "If that's Heyes, I wouldn't start snarlin' if I was you," he cautioned. "He wouldha knocked your namesake out cold if he'd ever gone that far and I can't guarantee he wouldn't do the same thing to you."

Loud barking replaced the growling.

Kid sighed and, leaning a little on the rifle, began to pull himself up from the ground. "What the—?"

He didn't get to finish his question as, out of the corner of his eye, he glimpsed the large curved claws of a bear as it lunged around the tree. Diving to his left Kid dropped the rifle, his right hand instinctively finding his Colt. Despite his speed the dog had still managed to place itself between him and the bear, jumping up and down and barking furiously to try and distract it, while dodging the large paws as they swung through the air.

From his position on the forest floor the gunman lined up his shot but Wheat's continuous movement in front of him meant that the dog was always in the way. Not wanting to risk hitting him by mistake, Kid yelled, "Back off, Wheat!" and much to his surprise the dog did as it was told.

With Wheat gone the bear charged and Kid fired two shots before the bear dropped to the ground.

The dog was soon back sniffing and pawing at the warm black pelt. His gun still in his hand Kid took a steadying breath before ambling over to ensure that the bear was, in fact, dead. Crouching down, he patted the dog's head affectionately.

"Thanks, fella, you saved my life. I guess now we're even."

Golden brown eyes looked intently at Kid and a warm, pink tongue licked his hand.

Back at the cabin Hannibal Heyes raised his eyes to the heavens and prayed that the grey clouds overhead would not deliver any more rain. Then, swinging the axe above his head, he brought it down in one swift movement cleaving the log in two. He had just picked up one of the pieces when he heard two gunshots echo through the forest. Pausing, he smiled to himself. If nothing else, they would have fresh meat for supper. It therefore came as a surprise when, after hearing another shot, he did not see his partner again for another hour and, when he did eventually appear, he only had a single rabbit grasped in his hand.

"That all you got?"

"Yep." Kid sighed, throwing the rabbit down on the tree stump that Heyes had been using as a splitting block.

"But, I heard three shots. Thought you were gonna come back here with your hands full."

"Oh, they'd have been full alright... if I'd brought back the bear."

" _Bear?!_ "

"Yeah. Wheat here saved me from gettin' my head bit off by a big black one. Took two shots to bring him down."

Heyes grinned eagerly. "Should we go back and get the pelt? We could maybe sell it in the next town."

"It looked full of mange to me, Heyes. Don't think it would be worth the effort."

Heyes shrugged and turned his attention to the dog sitting at Kid's feet. "Well, I guess you've earned yourself some supper, fella," he said as he pulled his knife from the hidden slot in his boot and, picking up the rabbit, proceeded to skin and clean it. Wheat's eyes didn't leave Heyes as he waited for the scraps he knew would be discarded.

During his walk through the forest Kid had also managed to find some wild onions and a few mushrooms which gave the stew extra flavour, and Heyes had thickened the gravy by crumbling into it some pieces of hard tack he had found lurking at the bottom of his saddlebags. The three of them made short work of the rabbit stew.

While the ex-outlaws drank their coffee Wheat lay in front of the stove contentedly licking his paws.

Thoughtfully, Heyes regarded the dog for a moment then glanced sideways at his partner. Taking a deep breath, he ventured, "You know, Kid, I don't think Wheat here could have been in that river for very long otherwise he'd be dead for sure. We should ask around at the next town, see if anyone's missing a big, hairy cur."

"Mmmm."

"You said yourself you think he's a hunting dog. Whoever took the time to train him has probably been out there looking for him."

"Mmmm."

Noticing a far-away look in his partner's eyes Heyes said, "He can't stay with us. Y' do know that, don't ya? If we can't find out who he belongs to we'll just have to find someone else who wants to keep him."

The Kid pulled his knees in toward his chest and stared into his coffee cup. "What if I'm that someone?" His voice was barely above a whisper.

"Aw, Jed, you know you can't." Heyes spoke softly through a sad smile. "The first time we're chased by some posse or bounty hunter he's gonna get left behind, maybe even shot or trampled in the chase. Anyway, we can barely feed ourselves half the time, let alone a dog. He'll be much better off on a farm where he's looked after, not trailing around between here and No-wheres-ville with the likes of us."

"I guess." Kid murmured and, as he raised his eyes to meet Heyes', his cousin briefly glimpsed the young boy he hadn't seen for twenty years.

The Curry family had always had a dog, often more than one, mostly because Kid's older brothers kept finding stray pups and bringing them home. Their Pa, although strict with a growing number of children to keep under control, had a soft spot when it came to his youngest son and often let Jed choose which one should stay.

Heyes didn't need to be reminded how much Kid missed having a home and a family but he silently reproached himself for also not realizing how much he might miss owning a dog. He stood up, giving Kid's shoulder an affectionate squeeze as he did so.

"One day," he said simply before grabbing an armful of wood and proceeding to stoke up the stove for the night.

Kid nodded solemnly. "When we've got the amnesty."

ooooo-OOO-ooooo

Despite a little overnight rain dawn the next day was fine and clear and, as all their gear was now dry, Hannibal Heyes and Kid Curry decided to skip breakfast and make an early start. Their need for a bath, a hearty meal and a comfortable bed, not to mention a store where they could replenish their supplies outweighing their need for a few tedious mouthfuls of beef jerky.

Riding along the trail in the early morning, the surrounding countryside looked as if it had been washed clean by the rain. The air felt cool and fresh and every colour, from the green of the grass to the yellow of the sandstone rocks, sparkled in the sunlight.

Initially the trail kept to higher ground but as the morning wore on it began to dip until they once more arrived beside the fast-flowing river. The partners were relieved to see that it had still kept to its course.

Wheat trotted over to stand on the edge of the bank.

"Hey, c'mon," called Heyes. Golden brown eyes stared at the raging waters and the dog began barking.

Kid Curry swung his horse around. "If'n you fall in, I'm not gonna fish you out again," he grumbled.

Heyes let loose a piercing whistle. When there was no reaction whatsoever from the dog, he yelled in frustration, _"Dammit, Wheat, c'mon!"_ Having been leader of the Devil's Hole Gang he still expected his orders to be carried out immediately.

"Yeah, c'mon Wheat, you're holding everyone up!" At the sound of Kid's voice the dog's head whipped around and he hurried over to join the two riders.

Looking at his cousin's almost petulant expression, Kid asked through a laugh, "What's eatin' you?"

"That darn dog. He ignores what _I_ say, but he does exactly what _you_ tell him." Heyes' frown deepened as his cousin's laughter continued.

"I guess you named him real good, Heyes, 'cause Wheat Carlson never did anythin' you told him to neither."

A little after noon they stopped at a creek to water the horses and eat the last of their supplies.

Sitting with his back against a boulder Kid threw a stick for Wheat to chase which the dog did with great enthusiasm, bringing it back each time and dropping it on the ground, ready to go again. Kid paused from time to time to hold out a piece of his jerky. The dog quickly devoured each small chunk.

"How far do you figure to the next town?"

Hannibal Heyes held his strip of jerky between his teeth, pulled a wad of paper from his inside pocket and unfolded a large piece of creased, yellowing paper. Biting off another mouthful he chewed ponderously as he smoothed out the roughly-drawn map on the ground and traced a line across it with his index finger.

Glancing around to confirm their position Heyes eventually said, "I figure we should be in Calhoun by tonight. We're about here." He tapped the map and took another pull on what was left of his strip of dried beef.

Kid finally swallowed the piece he had been chewing for the past five minutes and tossed what remained in his hand to Wheat who caught it with a loud snap of his jaws. "I hope that old map is right, Heyes or all three of us are gonna be _real_ hungry."

"Stop worrying, Kid. That old prospector in Pike Creek gave me his word it was accurate. Said he'd used it plenty of times."

Blue eyes blinked sceptically. "Pfftt. His word, huh? If it's that good how come he was willin' to part with it? And for only two bits."

Having finished his scrap, Wheat licked his teeth and looked expectantly at Heyes.

"Look, we don't even have to cross the river. All we have to do is head for that ridge over there and keep it on our right." Heyes' hand, which held his remaining piece of jerky, waved absently in the air causing Wheat to tense in anticipation as he readied himself to catch it, but the dog could only watch in dismay as Heyes stuffed it in his mouth and folded up the map.

Having the dog with them meant progress was a little slower than usual but that did not bother the riders too much, and they had been happily jogging along a nice even trail for about an hour when Heyes' sorrel mare suddenly shied and began sidestepping nervously along the track.

"Whoa, girl," gentled Heyes. "What is it?"

"Knowing that mare o' yours, it don't have to be anythin'," grumbled Kid.

Under Heyes' steady hand the sorrel soon settled down and they continued on their way but had not gone more than half a mile when the mare gave two small bucks. This time it took Heyes a bit more effort to settle her and Kid Curry reined in his gelding to give him some space. He leant on his saddle horn and watched his partner raise his hands and shoulders in a shrug while the animal danced along sideways beneath him.

Another mile or two was covered without incident until suddenly the sorrel threw up her head and squealed, jumping so violently that only Heyes' considerable riding skills stopped him from being dumped sideways into a large muddy puddle. Thinking his mare might have been bitten by a rattlesnake Hannibal Heyes quickly twisted in his saddle looking anxiously at the ground around them.

Pointing at the dog he looked quizzically at Kid. "Did he just bite my horse?"

"Doubt it, Heyes. It could have been a snake. I didn't see one mind, but that don't mean she ain't been bit. You'd better check her out."

Determined to keep a close eye on Wheat from now on Heyes dismounted with a huff and gently ran his hand down each of his horse's legs feeling for heat and looking for any sign of blood. Not finding anything amiss he placed his left boot back in the worn leather stirrup and had barely begun to swing his other leg over the saddle when his horse threw up her head and bolted down the track.

Out of the corner of his eye Kid caught sight of the dog as it snapped at the sorrel's hock. "Stop that!" he shouted and the dog slunk away to hide behind a large snowberry bush.

Regaining control of his mount was relatively easy but Heyes was struggling with his temper as he trotted back to his partner. "I _knew_ it was him!" he said, his voice tight. "Why would he want to go and do a thing like that? I don't see him biting at your horse."

"Probably knows mine will kick out."

"Oh, she'll kick out alright, if I strap on my spurs."

It had taken considerable time and effort to stop the skittish sorrel from kicking out at everything and nothing. He'd even had to make it a habit to ride with slick heels since the day he bought her as the slightest touch of a spur would send her crazy.

Heyes caressed his horse's neck as if to reassure her that he wouldn't really put his spurs on. "Keep that hound away from her, Kid, 'cause if he bites her again, I may just put a bullet in him."

"Aaaww now—."

"I don't want her unsettled. Heck, I have to keep my legs away from her sides most of the time as it is." Heyes pulled his hat down low over his eyes in disgruntled-outlaw-leader-fashion. "I mean it, Kid, I _will_ shoot him," he growled, then with barely a flick of his split reins he headed off down the track.

Kid Curry sighed and, as he followed his irate cousin's dust, he whistled to the dog and pointed to the ground next to his gelding's left foreleg. "Wheat, here!" he commanded and that was exactly where Wheat stayed.

Heyes didn't say another word for a couple of hours but, as the dog behaved itself, his dark mood began to lift. When they eventually stopped to rest on the shore of a small lake he watched thoughtfully as Wheat lapped at the cool water alongside the two horses.

"Y' know, Kid, I've been thinking. We figure Wheat here has been trained to hunt, right? So, he's gotta be used to being around horses. Now... everything was fine this morning when we left the cabin; it's only since we stopped to eat that he's been causing trouble. Something must have riled him at the creek or on the trail since then but I'm darned if I can figure out what it is."

Kid Curry finished checking the ties on his bedroll and leant against his horse's rump trying to think what could have caused Wheat to become aggressive.

"It's a mystery, alright. Let's see... you looked at the map... I threw the stick... we ate the last of our jerky... I gave him some of mine and..." Kid smirked. "Heyes, did you give him any of yours?"

"Huh?"

"Did you give Wheat any of your jerky, like I did?"

"Of course I did."

"You sure about that?"

"Well, I..." Heyes brow wrinkled as he tried to recall if he had saved any of his paltry lunch for the dog.

The blond's grin widened. "Betcha didn't. No wonder he's pickin' on you. He probably don't take too kindly to one of his trail buddies not sharin'."

Heyes rolled his eyes. "Well, I can't do anything about that now, we're all out of food."

Kid Curry's hand slid into one of the deep pockets of his sheepskin jacket. "Here," he murmured, leaning in toward his cousin whilst at the same time slipping a two inch piece of jerky into his gloved hand. "I kinda put this by for him — for later. You give it to him and I bet he'll be your friend again."

"What are you passing it to me like that for? It ain't stolen!"

"He's real smart, Heyes." Kid peered surreptitiously over his shoulder at the dog before whispering, "If he sees me handin' it over then he'll know it didn't come from you."

Heyes stared steadily at his partner for a moment then he crouched down in front of the dog and held out the piece of beef. "Here you go, fella."

Wheat eyed the offering suspiciously, sniffed it long and hard, then took it gently with his front teeth and, after a couple of chews, swallowed it in one gulp.

"Friends again?" A long, wet tongue snaked over Heyes' glove in reply.

"See, it don't take much to make him like ya," laughed Kid. "C'mon, let's make tracks and get to this town before they stop servin' supper. I'm starving!"

ooooo-OOO-ooooo

The small town of Calhoun had never quite made its mark as part of the Utah mining boom. Silver had been discovered nearby but there was not a great deal of it and what little there was proved to be of poor quality. This did not deter the more hardy residents, however, who refused to allow a lack of the precious metal to turn it into a ghost town and had worked doggedly to establish a successful supply-post serving the more lucrative mining towns further north.

Evening was fast approaching by the time Hannibal Heyes and Kid Curry rode down Calhoun's short main street. Despite its size, the town appeared to have everything they needed as well as missing one thing they didn't — a Sheriff's office. The partners exchanged a meaningful look and smiled. Dismounting outside the one and only hotel they grabbed their bedrolls and saddlebags and strode inside.

The hotel lobby was dark and dingy with peeling paint on the walls and a carpet that had seen better days. Neither man thought anything of it. They had seen worse and the prospect of a proper bed for the night, even one with questionable sheets, was still appealing. Anyway, with so little money between them they would have to settle for what they could get.

Heyes gave the brass counter bell an enthusiastic thump, summoning the desk clerk.

"We'd like a room for tonight, please. Second floor, overlooking the street, if possible."

The clerk consulted his register. "One night...that'll be a dollar... but you'll have to share the bed. Oh, it's plenty big enough," he added hastily having caught Kid's frown.

"One bed will be fine," said Heyes, "but a dollar isn't. Make it six bits and we'll skip breakfast." Kid's frown deepened as his partner picked up the pen to sign the register only to have the clerk yank it out of his hand and point a long bony finger past the two men.

"Er...is...is that thing with you?"

Heyes and Curry turned simultaneously to see Wheat sniffing around the lobby floor. Kid clicked his fingers and the dog hurried over to sit next to his leg.

"Is there a problem?" Although Kid's tone was light there was a look about the man that the clerk found disconcerting; nevertheless he took a deep breath and steadfastly announced, "We don't allow dogs. They bring vermin."

Blue eyes flickered around the run-down lobby. "You're worried about vermin?"

"Yessir, vermin."

Heyes' eyes conveyed a subtle warning to his partner before he ventured, "I don't suppose you'd care to make an exception, would you... just for one night?" Having no spare cash with which to attempt a bribe, he tried a disarming smile instead.

"No, sir. It's hotel policy. No dogs. No exceptions."

Heyes' smile faded fast. "What do you propose we do with him then? Leave him tied to the hitching rail all night?"

"That's not my problem," replied the clerk closing the register with a thud.

Heyes jerked his head toward the door but not before he had given the clerk a disparaging look. He marched out into the gathering twilight closely followed by his partner and their canine problem.

"Well, that's dandy! What we gonna do now?" griped Kid.

Heyes looked up and down the street. "There's always the livery stable."

"We're not gonna sleep in there!"

"Not _'we'_ , Kid — just one of us — with the dog." Brown eyes blinked innocently.

"You're gonna suggest we flip a coin, aren't you?"

Not fazed by the icy glint which was beginning to form in his cousin's eyes, Heyes quickly produced a silver dollar.

Kid shook his head. "Uh-uh...we'll use my coin," he stated whilst extracting from his vest pocket the quarter he had 'put away for an emergency'. "Call it!"

Exactly ten seconds later Hannibal Heyes once again thumped the brass counter bell.

ooooo-OOO-ooooo

The evening was still young when a mud-splattered pair of brown boots with tan jeans tucked into them made their way into the dimly lit saloon and ambled over to a long plank set across four large barrels which served as a bar. The bartender greeted the wearer with a friendly smile.

"Beer, please." Heyes placed a dime on the roughly hewn wood. "Any food on tonight?"

"Sure, for two bits we got mutton stew and boiled potatoes, or there's cold ham and cheese. Take yer choice."

"Thanks, I will, but I'll wait for my partner. He'll be along soon."

Heyes picked up his beer and took a long swallow. A quick look around the room when he walked in had told him all he needed to know about the saloon. The place was small and quiet — just a few people drinking and one or two eating. The big disappointment was that there was no poker being played. _That's probably for the best_ , he thought, a hint of a smile crossing his lips. _We need our money for supplies_. _If I lost even half of it the Kid would shoot me for sure._

Several minutes passed before the familiar sound of Kid Curry's footsteps sounded on the wooden floor behind him together with the not so familiar click of the dog's claws.

"Everything alright, Thaddeus?" Heyes asked, reaching into his pocket for another dime as his cousin signalled to the barman to pour him a beer.

Kid set his hat low over his eyes and cast a sideways glare at Heyes from under the brim. "See _you_ got yourself a shave and changed your shirt," he said through tight lips. "I didn't have time what with rubbing down our horses _and_ fetchin' them feed and water."

Heyes eyes twinkled as he regarded his partner's three-day stubble and dusty clothes before asking, "Livery owner closing up early, huh?"

"No. He said me and Wheat could only sleep there if I tended to the horses myself. It's costin' us a whole dollar for stablin' just 'cause I'm takin' up another stall! That's more'n you're payin' for that hotel room of yours."

"Yeah, well, there are four of you. Anyway, I'm not so sure I've got the best deal... sleeping in that hotel. The Brown Palace it ain't! You'll probably be more comfortable over there in the stable."

Kid raised an eyebrow. "Wanna trade?"

"No!" Heyes' response was swift. "The last thing I wanna do is deprive you of a good night's sleep."

"You're all heart, Joshua."

Heyes smiled at his cousin's sarcasm and slapped him on the back dislodging a cloud of dust, not to mention numerous stalks of straw, and almost spilling his beer. "Now you've worked up an appetite, how 'bout some mutton stew?"

"Sounds good."

"Bartender...two large bowls of your stew and potatoes, please."

"Make that three bowls," corrected Kid.

"Three? Heck, I know you're hungry but... two's a lot, even for you."

"One's for him." Kid nodded at Wheat who sat patiently at his feet.

"Oh, yeah. Him." Heyes grimaced. "One bowl for each of us and some in — well, whatever you got that you don't mind being slobbered over— for him," he said pointing at the floor.

The bartender peered over the bar at the large scruffy hound and frowned. "Ain't that the Welby dog?"

"The Welby dog?"

"Yeah. Sure looks like him. Sheriff Welby, he's got a huntin' dog just like that."

Kid's stomach lurched while Heyes asked croakily, " _Sheriff_ Welby?" The ex-outlaws exchanged an uneasy look.

"Real nice fella, family man too. He's been Sheriff over in Linwood gettin' on fer...," the two ex-outlaws found themselves holding their breath while the barman paused to think, "...let me see... must be gettin' on five years. From what folks say, the place was overrun by a bunch of real ornery desperados but he done turned it right around. Runs a nice, peaceable, law-abidin' town now."

Heyes forced a humourless smile. "That's good to hear," he said, trying to sound sincere. "Uh, exactly where is Linwood?"

"About a day's ride south o' here."

Kid took a gulp of beer then wiped the foam off his top lip with the back of his hand. "I guess it _could_ be his dog. We found him a few days ago. He'd fallen in the river during the rains. Almost drowned hisself. Been taggin' along with us ever since."

"Well, if he is the Welby dog I'm sure the Sheriff would be mighty grateful to get him back. His boy Louis, now him and that dog are inseparable. Can't say fer sure boys, but...there could be _re_ -ward in it fer ya." The bartender left them staring silently after him while he stepped into the kitchen.

Despite the mention of a reward Heyes moved to one of the nearby tables, slowly sank down into a seat and put his head in his hands. "A Sheriff's dog," he groaned quietly. "You had to go and rescue a Sheriff's dog."

Without a word Kid Curry slumped down into an adjacent chair and stared dejectedly at his half empty beer glass.

"Here y' are, boys!" Both men started. So caught up were they contemplating the fact that the dog belonged to a lawman that neither had noticed the bartender approach. Two steaming bowls of stew and potatoes were placed before them on the table together with two spoons.

"Thanks," said Heyes, tossing a selection of coins onto the man's tray. Another bowl was placed on the floor at Kid's feet for Wheat. The ravenous dog fell upon his meal which disappeared in less than a minute.

Ignoring his lurching stomach Kid reached for a spoon. Heyes knew that he should be hungry too but just couldn't seem to find his appetite. He tried his best to eat but barely managed about half of his meal before surrendering the remainder to his ever-hungry partner who, in turn, shared it with Wheat.


	3. Chapter 3

They hadn't spoken any more about Sheriff Welby or the dog last night and nothing was mentioned over coffee and biscuits in the saloon that morning, but once they hit the trail it seemed to Kid as if Heyes had talked about nothing else. Well aware that this was his partner's way of straightening things out in his mind Kid figured that this constant verbal flow was probably because he had spent the night on his own without anybody to wake in the middle of the night to talk to. However, whether it was the middle of the night or right now it didn't make him any less annoying.

The second Heyes paused for breath Kid saw his chance. "Well, it looks to me like _I_ might have earned us a little extra cash," he stated with a self-satisfied smile and a nod.

"Oh, _really_?" Heyes responded, sarcastically. "Pleased with yourself, are you?"

"As a matter of fact, I am."

"And you've got a plan?"

Kid's smile disappeared. "A plan?"

"Yeah, a plan. What are you gonna do when we get to Linwood? You just gonna walk into Sheriff Welby's office with Wheat?"

"I... I guess."

Heyes nodded sagely. "I see."

"Hold on a minute." Kid didn't like the sound of this. " _I'm_ gonna walk into the Sheriff's office? You're coming too, right?"

"The hell I am!"

"Why not?"

"Because you'll be needing someone on the outside for when you get into trouble."

"What trouble _?_ "

"Kid, I know we're not in Wyoming or Colorado, but Utah isn't exactly a million miles away from where we did most of our robbin'. This Sheriff must have seen our Wanted posters."

"Um..."

"He may even have them decorating his wall."

"Yeah, but..."

"The two of us... walking in there together...now, that's just _asking_ for trouble."

"Well..."

"Look, I've no doubt he'll be happy to have his dog back but... what if he's not offering a reward?"

"I, uh..."

"Face it, Kid." Heyes pulled his horse to a sudden stop blocking his cousin's path. "There's a real strong possibility that all he's gonna offer you is a look down the barrel of his six-gun, a set of iron bracelets, and a cell for twenty years!"

"Sheesh, Heyes," Kid grumbled. "That silver tongue of yours takin' a break or somethin'?"

Heyes had opened his mouth to deliver a snappy retort but one look at his partner's crestfallen expression made him close it again. "Okay, okay. Let me think about it a while."

"Sounds to me like you've done nothin' _but_ think about it."

Heyes nudged his horse back to a walk and smiled ruefully — Kid knew him so well. "Won't hurt to think some more."

ooooo-OOO-ooooo

The road from Calhoun to Linwood was flat easy riding. There had been no more rain so the ground was turning from mud to soft dirt which meant they made good time, only stopping to water their horses and eat a sandwich purchased from the saloon at breakfast; each making sure to share a little with Wheat. By late afternoon they began to pass one or two properties heralding the outskirts of Linwood.

When the town itself came into view Heyes reined his horse to a halt and sat staring at the road ahead. Kid did likewise leaning forward on his saddle horn and Wheat stopped investigating the undergrowth to sit alongside Kid's gelding. They both stared at Heyes with interest.

"What we stoppin' for?"

"Y' know, Kid, _we_ don't need to go into town."

Kid sighed. "What you mean is — you still ain't comin' with me."

"No, I mean _neither_ of us has to go. Now that we've got fresh supplies we could take that fork we passed a mile or so back and head west."

"Heyes, I don't know why you're so nervous about this. We don't know a Sheriff Welby." Kid's eyes narrowed. "You ain't had one of those premonition things again, have ya?"

The former outlaw-leader shook his head. "I don't like tempting fate, is all."

"Pfftt. We do nothin' _but_ tempt fate, 'specially when _you_ sit down at a poker table," muttered Kid.

Heyes scowled. "Kid, may I remind you, it happens to be a good long while since you had to back me up during a game. Months ago, in fact. And even then, it wasn't _really_ a problem. I couldha—"

Kid Curry's face broke into a grin at Heyes' pique. "Aw, I'm just messin' with ya, Heyes. You gonna tell me what you're thinkin'? Do you wanna keep Wheat now? Is that what it is?" he asked, a hint of hope in his voice.

"No! I just don't see why he can't find his own way home from here. He must know this is where he lives. He don't need us to go with him." Heyes jumped down from his saddle.

"Hey, Wheat!" The dog's tail thumped excitedly on the ground. "Off you go fella." A brown glove pointed in the direction of the town but Wheat just stared blankly at Heyes. "Go on, boy." Wheat didn't move.

"Now you know he's not gonna do anythin' _you_ tell him, Heyes." Chuckling, Kid swung his leg over his saddle horn landing on both feet next to the dog who, tail still brushing trail dust back and forth, looked up at the tall blond. Kid patted the dog's head before he too pointed up the road. "Go home, Wheat!"

The dog's eyes were the only thing that moved as they followed the finger. "Go on home!" Kid commanded, sternly.

When the dog still didn't move, it was Heyes' turn to laugh. "Well, would you look at that! Wheat don't wanna do what _you_ tell him, neither. Maybe it's a good thing I haven't needed you to back me up lately, Kid. Looks to me like that proddy gunman act of yours ain't working too well."

In answer to this remark Heyes received an icy glare confirming that Kid's 'proddy gunman act' was working just fine.

After several more attempts to encourage the dog to make his own way into town Heyes indicated to Kid that they should mount up again and, once back in the saddle he jerked his thumb in the direction they had just come. Without a word the ex-outlaws turned their mounts and trotted back down the road. After a few hundred yards they glanced back over their shoulders. The dog was gone. Pleased with themselves they urged their horses into a lope intending to take the road Heyes had mentioned.

Seemingly out of nowhere a large brown blur streaked past only to stop in the middle of the road; Wheat stood facing them panting, his long pink tongue dripping saliva into the dust.

Both men pulled their horses up, sharply.

"Sheesh. Looks like we're goin' into town after all."

Heyes let out a heartfelt sigh and reined his horse around.

ooooo-OOO-ooooo

Riding as nonchalantly as possible down Linwood's main street Kid tipped his hat to a pretty lady while Heyes scanned faces for anyone they might know. Wheat trotted beside Kid's horse looking for all the world as if he belonged to the two men.

"What we gonna do, Heyes?" Kid murmured through clenched teeth. "Go straight to the Sheriff's office or should we go get a drink first?"

"Why? You figuring you should get a whiskey in case it might be your last?"

"Very funny."

"As much as I'd like a drink...I say, let's get it over with."

Kid nodded his agreement and with mounting trepidation they tied their horses to the hitching rail outside the Sheriff's office.

"You wait here, I'll check out the Sheriff," Heyes instructed before taking a deep breath, straightening his hat, and opening the door. As he walked inside leaving the door ajar so his partner could hear, his eyes made a cursory glance toward the cells. They appeared to be empty.

"Howdy. You Sheriff Welby?"

"Yep, that's me," replied a voice from behind a newspaper.

"My name's Joshua Smith and I think me and my friend might have found something belonging to you. The bartender in Calhoun seems to think so, anyway."

"Floyd?" A clean-shaven man of about forty with kind eyes and a pleasant smile peered around the well-thumbed publication.

Heyes edged toward the open door. "Thaddeus!"

Kid's arrival was quicker and his hand a little closer to his gun than he had intended after hearing Heyes call his name.

"He yours?" Heyes asked, pointing at the dog that ran in close on Kid's heels.

"Why, yes! Yes, he is. Otis!" The joy at being reunited with his dog evident, Sheriff Welby leapt to his feet and rushed out from behind his desk. As he crouched down the animal ran to him and attempted to slather the man's face with wet licks. "I never thought I'd see you again. Where did you find him?" He looked up at Heyes.

"My friend here rescued him from the river a few days back. He must have fallen in during those heavy rains and it was flowing so fast he couldn't get out."

The Sheriff stood and extended his hand. "Thank you very much," he said, pumping the Kid's hand vigorously. "You have no idea how upset my boy has been since I returned home without him."

Kid smiled. "We heard he was kinda attached."

"Louis and him are pretty much inseparable, 'cept when he's out with me."

"We heard he's a good hunting dog so we figured you would be wanting him back," said Heyes.

"Oh, he's good... but not for regular hunting. I got him a few years ago when I first took this job. Linwood was real lawless then so I got me a good hound and trained him up to hunt — men — outlaws mainly. He's got a real knack for sniffin' them out."

Right on cue Otis looked directly at the ex-outlaws and gave two exaggerated sniffs. The Sheriff shook his head. "Don't rightly know how he does it. Runs well with a posse too."

Heyes and Curry smiled uncomfortably.

To try and rid himself of the sensation that his neck was being gripped by an iron fist, Heyes cleared his throat. "Well, Sheriff, we just wanted to return him."

"Yeah, we'll be getting along now," added Kid, taking a large backward step toward the door.

"Oh, no you ain't!"

Both men froze.

"You're gonna wait right here," said the Sheriff with a smile. "I'll just go get my deputy — he won't mind starting early today, under the circumstances. Then you're both coming home with me to meet my wife and Louis. Sylvie's a real good cook and the least I can do is offer you fellas some supper."

"Oh, we'd hate your wife to go to any trouble for us, Sheriff."

"It's no trouble. Now, there's coffee in the pot on the stove over there. Help yourselves. Otis will keep you company. Stay, Otis," he said as he placed his hat on his head, stepped out onto the boardwalk and closed the door firmly behind him.

Heyes breathed out.

"Well, I don't know about you but _I_ sure ain't waitin' around for him to get back." Kid Curry turned for the door only to see the dog sitting in front of it. "Heyes, what's he doin'?"

"He's just sitting, Kid. Sheesh, now who's nervous?!" Feeling more confident now that the Sheriff was no longer there the dark haired man rolled his eyes as he reached for the door knob.

Otis growled loudly, baring all his teeth. The two men exchanged a glance, silently considering their options.

"Back door," Kid concluded but before he could take a step a hand seized his arm. Heyes eyed the snarling dog. "Looks to me like he's fixing to sink his teeth into your leg way before you get there, Kid. Anyway, it'll look a might suspicious if we take off now. Best we just try and relax and wait for the Sheriff."

ooooo-OOO-ooooo

A cup of coffee in one hand and a neatly folded week-old newspaper in the other, Hannibal Heyes looked up from where he leant against the desk as the sound of booted footsteps on the boardwalk outside heralded the arrival of more than one person. Otis moved away from the door and wagged his tail in greeting at the two men who entered.

"Hi there, Otis! I heard you was back," said a young man as he rubbed the dog's muzzle.

"These are the two fellas I was telling you about, Sam," said Sheriff Welby. "Mister Smith and...uh?"

"Jones, Thaddeus Jones," Kid filled in the details with a weak smile as he quickly extricated himself from the Sheriff's chair.

The lawman raised an amused eyebrow. "Smith and Jones?"

"That's right, Sheriff. Funny ain't it? We've been partners a while now and we still laugh about it." Heyes turned on his most innocent smile and hoped it was convincing.

"I bet. Okay, you two fellas finish up your coffee while I talk to Sam here and then we can take Otis home."

Heyes turned to place his cup and newspaper on the desk only to glimpse the wrinkle in his cousin's brow. Following his gaze, Heyes' smile was replaced by a frown of his own.

Kid was looking toward the opposite wall which was papered liberally with Wanted posters. Right in the centre were two, slightly larger than all the others, that they recognized immediately — their own. They had been in Sheriff's offices before and seen their posters but, disturbing as it was, that wasn't the problem here. The problem here was that Otis was sitting facing the wall, staring directly up at their names.

Sidling up to his partner Kid hissed acidly, "You _still_ gonna tell me he's 'just sittin''?"

"Get him away from there," murmured Heyes, glancing nervously over his shoulder and noting thankfully that Sheriff Welby was still in deep discussion with his deputy.

"Me?"

"Well, you're more his friend than me."

Kid shot Heyes a cold stare before chirping, "Hey, Whea...uh, Otis."

Otis glanced round for a split-second, thumped his tail, then fixed his eyes once more on the wall. "I'm sure gonna miss you," said Kid, stooping down to fuss the dog while trying to edge him away. Otis slapped the ex-outlaw's face with his long wet tongue then focussed his attention back on the posters. Wiping his face with the back of his hand Kid shrugged hopelessly at Heyes.

"Dang hound! He's always doing that." The voice startled them and Kid hastily stood up. Sheriff Welby marched over to the wall and slapped the palm of his hand on it — hard — squarely between their names. "Hopper!" he stated.

"Beg pardon," croaked Heyes, having feared that the Sheriff's sudden movement might have made the Kid a little too nervous.

"A hopper. Every time he sees one of those critters he just stares at it, like he's in some kinda trance. Folks don't like it. Makes them nervous."

Both Heyes and Curry laughed with relief as the Sheriff raised his hand revealing a small, squashed locust.

ooooo-OOO-ooooo

The short ride to Sheriff Welby's house was not exactly a pleasant experience for the two former outlaws but his young son's reaction to seeing Otis again made their discomfort worthwhile.

As they trotted toward the house Louis had whooped with joy, launched himself from the porch and flung his arms around the dog which then proceeded to push the eight year old over onto his back and try to lick him to death. Louis' spluttering shrieks of laughter rang out around the yard. The three men stayed in their saddles and watched, enjoying the spectacle and waiting until the excitement had died down a little before they dismounted.

"Well, somebody won't be needing a bath for a week," laughed the Sheriff, looking at Louis' wet face and hair. "Talking of washing, there's a pump over yonder. I know Sylvie would appreciate it if you could wash off some of that trail dust before supper."

Sylvie was every bit as good a cook as Sheriff Welby had said and, despite the state of their nerves, both Heyes and Curry managed to eat every single morsel that was put in front of them. Louis, however, was far too excited about having the dog back home to do his supper justice and he fidgeted so much at the table that his mother eventually shooed him out of the door, a biscuit in each hand, one for him and one for Otis.

As Sylvie poured each of them a steaming cup of coffee the Sheriff finally posed the question they had long been expecting.

"You fellas just passin' through?"

"Lookin' for work," replied Kid. "We tried a few towns further north but had no luck. Truth is, we're almost busted." He was still hoping they would be offered a reward for returning the dog.

"And what is it you do... exactly?"

"We do pretty much anything," replied Heyes quickly before Kid could say "As little as possible."

"Hmmm." Sheriff Welby ran his hand thoughtfully over his chin. "I've been thinkin' about buying Louis a horse of his own but that barn's in such bad shape there's barely shelter for one animal, let alone another. How's about you two fixin' it up? I don't need nothin' fancy, just the roof repairing and an extra stall. Maybe even a small hayloft. Think you could manage that?"

Heyes and Curry exchanged a look.

Sensing their uncertainty the Sheriff continued, "Job shouldn't take you more'n two weeks, I'd say. I'll pay you fifteen dollars a week apiece. We've got a warm, dry loft here in the house where you can sleep and you've already sampled Sylvie's cookin', so you know you won't go hungry."

"We'll need to talk it over between the two of us, Sheriff," said Heyes. "Mind if we take our coffee outside?"

"Sure. Go take a look."

Taking their hats from the pegs by the door Heyes and Curry stepped out onto the porch which was now bathed in a soft golden light from the setting sun. Dodging Otis who was running back and forth enthusiastically retrieving a stick thrown by Louis, they crossed the yard to the run down structure that the Sheriff had mentioned. After a quick look inside they leaned their backs against it while they drank their coffee.

Kid's concern was palpable prompting Heyes to ask, "You worried about working for the Sheriff?"

"It's not the Sheriff, Heyes, it's usin' a hammer that worries me."

"We've done some carpentry work before. Remember that building we helped build in Wickenburg?"

"Yeah, I remember it. Took weeks to get the feelin' back in my thumb," grumbled Kid.

Heyes grinned. "Y' know, it's the best offer we've had in weeks."

"It's the _only_ offer we've had in weeks."

Kid took a swallow from his cup before glancing sideways at his cousin. "We're gonna take it, ain't we?"

"Yep."

ooooo-OOO-ooooo

Now, the former leaders of the Devil's Hole Gang would be the first to admit that they were a whole lot better at robbing railroads and banks than they were at carpentry but, by the end of two weeks the barn was looking pretty good. The roof had been repaired and there was a new stall all ready for Louis' horse, not to mention a brand new hayloft. Being on the run meant they had spent more nights than they cared to count hunkering down in barns and so were familiar with how all the supports and crossbeams should look.

Their stay at the Welby home had been a surprisingly pleasant one and was the longest time — outside of a jail cell, that is — that they had ever spent in the company of a lawman who wasn't their friend and mentor, Lom Trevors.

However, there was one aspect of their stay that had not been quite so pleasant and that was the sight of Otis constantly staring up at them from underneath a crossbeam, or sitting in the middle of the yard watching intently as they put the finishing touches to the roof. Heyes had eventually put this down to canine curiosity, but Kid wasn't so sure and his left thumb had suffered more hits than usual from taking his eyes off what he was doing to cast wary glances at the dog.

After enjoying the last of Sylvie's substantial breakfasts the former outlaws said their goodbyes to her and Louis and set off on the short ride into Linwood to collect their pay. Otis once more trotted alongside Kid Curry's gelding.

"Otis, go home!" Kid shouted, pointing back toward the house.

"He stopped doing what you tell him 'bout two weeks ago, Kid. Or hadn't you noticed?"

"I noticed. What's he doin', comin' with us? Don't he want to stay and play with Louis?"

"Maybe he just wants to keep us company."

"Or turn us in."

Hannibal Heyes' laugh was loud and spontaneous. "Turn us in?!" he spluttered.

"Heyes, you remember what the Sheriff said about him sniffin' out outlaws. He's been watchin' us the whole time."

"You sure you didn't hit your head with that hammer as well as your thumb?"

Kid gave his chortling cousin a withering look. "What I want to know is... Why does Sheriff Welby want us to come into town... to his office... where the jail cells are... when he could have paid us last night after supper?"

Heyes shrugged. "Maybe he needed to go to the bank. Lawmen don't get paid as much as you think, y' know." He looked down at the dog trotting happily alongside them. "Tell you what we're gonna do, Kid. First, we're gonna collect our money. Then, we're gonna find a nice quiet town where we can have a few drinks, play a little poker and ...uh...romance a pretty girl or two. How does that sound?"

"Sounds like one of your better plans," Kid agreed, grudgingly.

"What do you mean 'one of my better plans'? All my plans are good plans."

As Kid raised his eyebrows questioningly, Heyes added. "I'll admit some of my _ideas_ might not always work out, but my _plans_ are fine!"

The moment he pushed open the door to the Sheriff's office Heyes realized that his idea to let Otis tag along may not have been one of his better ones for the dog ran straight past him and, once again, sat down under their Wanted posters. Kid's keen eyes searched hopefully for any sign of a hopper but, if there was one, he certainly couldn't see it.

"What are you two doing here?" asked the Sheriff as he looked up from his paperwork. "I wasn't expecting you to ride over 'til later."

Heyes managed to smile through his first nervous swallow in two weeks. "Well, if it's all the same to you, Sheriff, we thought we'd collect our pay and head on out. It's a long ride over to Fishers Ridge and we'd like to be there before sun-down."

"Sure." The Sheriff pulled open the top drawer of his desk and reached in with his right hand.

From where he was standing Kid saw Heyes' shoulders stiffen. He wished his own right hand was resting on his Colt but instead, and with no small effort, he kept his thumbs — even the bruised one — hooked in the front of his gun belt.

Withdrawing his hand, Sheriff Welby smiled broadly as he passed each of them a small, neat roll of dollar bills. Unusually, neither man counted it, they just stuffed it into their jacket pockets.

"Considering you fellas ain't carpenters by trade you've done a mighty fine job, so I've added a small bonus in there for each of you."

Both men hastily shook the lawman's hand. "Thank you very much Sheriff. We'll be on our way now," said Heyes, tipping his hat and edging his way toward the door.

"Anytime you fellas are in these parts feel free to drop by. I know Louis and Sylvie would be real pleased to see you. Otis too."

Politely touching his forefinger to the brim of his brown hat Kid followed his partner to the hitching rail where they swung themselves up into their saddles. Sheriff Welby strolled out onto the boardwalk to watch as, with a wave and a smile, Hannibal Heyes and Kid Curry turned their horses and headed out of town.

Otis sat at his master's feet watching their dust trail disappear into the distance. Raising his wet, black nose in the air he took two...long...deep...sniffs.


End file.
